


Herbology Study #8-C

by fantom_ftnoise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Dancing, Drug Use, Fire, Hallucinations, Harry Potter Has Issues, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mild Language, Paranoia, Recreational Drug Use, Science Experiments, Smoking, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantom_ftnoise/pseuds/fantom_ftnoise
Summary: In Neville's latest Herbology experiment, Hermione finds nargles, Ron is pumpkin juice, Harry is dramatic, and Draco saves the day.





	Herbology Study #8-C

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jess, my partner in crime! This trip would not have happened without you.

"Windows sealed?"

"Check."

"Doors?"

" _ Colloportus… _ Check."

"Hydration potions?"

Harry smothered a laugh as Neville tried valiantly to keep his sigh within reason: "Twenty-eight unbreakable vials and an extra flask," he answered, gesturing at the small army of potions at the center of the Gryffindor eighth year boys' dormitory. "Everything's ready." 

Hermione finally looked up from her glittery plastic Muggle clipboard, brown eyes blazing as if she were on a high-stakes mission instead of getting high after school.

This witch had an Order of Merlin to her name.

"Harry," she barked, and he jolted to attention. Now it was Malfoy's turn to smirk, sitting primly next to him with his back against Harry's trunk. Nobody else would sit with the Princely Prat of Slytherin, but Harry didn’t find his company quite so abhorrent these days. "No patterns. Flannel, off." She snapped her fingers militantly. Seamus and Dean, sitting side-by-side on a bed, snickered as Harry fussed with the old frayed shirt, crumpling it up and stowing it in his trunk. Malfoy, lips pressed together in a frown, fished it back out.

"Blimey, Malfoy, does everything always have to be just so?" Ron guffawed, slouching in the squishy armchair that he'd blazenly stolen from the common room. Luna perched delicately on the back of the chair, braiding locks of his shaggy hair at random.

"Leave it, Ron," Harry shot back, lifting the lid of the trunk again so Malfoy could deposit the now-folded shirt back inside. Ron raised his hands in surrender, eyes wide in mockery, as Luna tied off yet another braid with a bit of colorful string. Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. Perhaps he'd been a bit...concerned for Malfoy, ever since last month. That trip had not gone to plan for anyone; Malfoy in particular still had nightmares. Neville promised better results this time.

They reviewed the rules again - it wasn't all fun and games and hallucinations, Neville reminded them, this was for research. If he wanted to land an apprenticeship after Hogwarts, these monthly double-blind studies would need meticulous notes in order to be distilled into a proper thesis.

"What're we expecting this time, Longbottom?" Malfoy sounded very put-upon and Harry only just stopped himself from reminding him that this was entirely voluntary. They were meant to have fun with this - last time was a fluke.

"Standard euphoria, awe, bright colors, mild visuals… It's mostly untested, obviously, that's why we're doing this, but - " Neville rambled on and Harry felt Malfoy's tension at the unanswered (unasked) question.

"What's the bad?" Harry cut in bluntly.

Neville stammered, flipping back in his notebook to scan another page. "I thought we'd ease back in after last time, so this is just..." He was sweating under their gazes; Harry nodded at him encouragingly. "Erm, you might be prone to a bit of paranoia, then of course we've got to watch out for the power of suggestion, which can go either way… And if any of you are in a foul mood tonight, we best - "

"Malfoy," Ron coughed. Harry threw a sock at him.

" - hold off for another night… But overall, we're really just expecting bright colors, happy feelings, laughing, synesthesia - "

"Ooh, love that!" Dean trilled, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"Right, so this one is the control," Neville continued. He levitated a tiny vial into the middle of several identical-looking potions floating around his head. With a swish of his wand - the only wand allowed in the room - the vials swirled around each other and Harry rapidly lost track of which one was the placebo. As one, everyone gathered round to pick their poison. 

Neville lifted the tray with their names on it, the signal to drink, and the others downed the nuclear-green potion like shots. It tasted like...butter? With a blast of spice at the end that lingered on Harry's tongue as he placed his empty vial on the circle with his name on it. Later, Neville would use a simple formula to determine which had been the fake. Last time it had been Ron (not that anyone could tell, the way he had carried on about spiders in the curtains).

"It'll take a few minutes… Settle in," Neville commanded, levitating the tray on a high shelf for safe-keeping. As they all returned to their seats, he turned to a new page, plucking a new self-inking quill from behind his ear. He sat on a hardback swivel chair in the middle of the room and began his sober watch.

* * *

Herbology Study #8-C  
Date: 5 March 1999  
Time: 8:15pm  
Subjects: 6 + 1 control (double-blind)

Subjects collectively smacking their lips, some complaining of spice. All calm, waiting for effects. 

Subjects 6 & 7 seem unaware that they're sitting closer than before ingestion, arms now touching.*

Subject 4 continues braiding S3's hair, no change since ingestion. 

S3 eyes closed, no other change. 

S1&2 lying on backs together on bed, no other change. 

S5 opted not to sit, tapping foot where she stands. Will watch for reactions to sparkly Muggle clipboard as effects begin.

*S7 has now crooked one arm up on backrest, seems not to notice his own hand resting on S6’s shoulder. S6 now looking flushed. Physical reaction to herb or S7?

* * *

His vision was starting to warp. He blinked, hard, when the grain in the floorboards began swirling madly, but it only changed colors and kept swirling. Focusing instead on Ron, who had finally opened his eyes but now looked constipated, seemed to help - but then Ron's chair started to look like an awful lot like a toilet so Harry quickly looked elsewhere. Dean was massaging his own teeth, which made Harry acutely aware of his own teeth…

"Look at this," Malfoy muttered, nudging him. 

He lifted a hand and Harry watched, entranced, as his long, elegant fingers began to stretch and stretch, until they were each longer than his forearm. Harry blanched, reaching out to touch them lightly. They were soft and warm, vibrant, perfect… Harry looked at his own fingers, which now looked like knobby roots sprouting from a potato, and retracted his hand, hiding it away. Malfoy simply carried on admiring his own beautiful hands.

* * *

Herbology Study #8-C  
Date: 5 March 1999  
Time: 9:00pm

S7 now sitting on his hands; seems to crave potatoes.

S6 observing fingers, toes. Claims of superior dexterity remain unproven. Socks/shoes removed sometime in the last 30min. So very very pale, but that's normal.

S4 continuing to braid S3's hair, no change in demeanor. 

S3 straining very hard with eyes closed. Occasional grunts. The need for vanishing charm seems imminent. 

S5 staring quite hard at S4. Evidence of tears on face, but doesn't seem emotional. Forgetting to blink? Clipboard abandoned  ~~ thank Merlin ~~ .

S1 claims to have sprouted another row of teeth (unverified). S2 drumming fingers on belly, remains relaxed, suggesting new foods for S1 to try with new teeth. Conversation veering towards camels (Muggle).

  
  


* * *

"Of course..." Malfoy sighed. Harry's head jerked over in surprise and the world went topsy for a moment before refocusing on Malfoy, who suddenly smelled deliciously pink. He was vibrating. Malfoy was, probably, not Harry...right? Right. Malfoy was vibrating and the vibrations were lifting him up, threatening to steal him away. Harry lurched forward, reaching his dumb potatoes out to him, willing the roots to grow around his arm.

"I'll keep you safe," he said firmly, anchoring Malfoy to the ground with him. Malfoy laughed lightly and the sound of it blinded him. It was all he could do to hold on to the ethereal being.

"Not proper," he heard Dean's voice from far away. It smelled like ice, which was pleasant but probably not good for Harry's spindly little roots. He saw Dean's figure rise from the bed like a great heaving mountain, pulling up the ground with him and laying it out across the swirling ocean of colors beneath them. "Better," Dean said, just before he tossed several boulders down.

"Gods, you're  _ so _ strong!" Seamus cried out from somewhere above them all. "So strong, so...best." He slithered down from his mountain to join Dean on a particularly large boulder in the corner.

"Don't...don't look at the window," Harry advised, struggling to keep his roots tight around Malfoy's arm. "You'll float away...you'll leave me."

"I'm right here," Malfoy hummed like an orchestra.

"CLOSE THE WINDOW!" Harry barked at the swirling universe.

"It's closed, Harry," Neville's voice rang back. "We sealed it before we began. He's safe."

“I’ll keep you safe,” he assured him again anyway.

* * *

Herbology Study #8-C  
Date: 5 March 1999  
Time: 10:15pm

First round of hydration potion administered, all subjects doing well physically.

S5 closely examining floorboards. Speech is quiet and indistinct. Mentions of nargles and research grants.

S4 giggling in the curtains. (Not unusual for this subject.)

S1 seems displeased with decor, has laid out blankets and pillows. Now drawing on loose bits of parchment. Drawings appear to be random scribbles. S1 intermittently frantic, calm. 

S2  very impressed by the scribbles.

S3 vocalizing at random, no distinct words. Eyes closed. Does not seem distressed. Still looking sharp with his braided fringe.  ~~ Can't believe we banned cameras... ~~

S7 extremely distressed over possibility of S6 floating away through (closed) window. Will close curtain if the view continues to present a problem for our delicate hero.

S6 appears significantly more flushed - touching S7's hair. A lot.

* * *

"Cos you see, camels, they don't eat grass like yer standard cow - they eat sand, right?"

"Come off it," Malfoy snorted. Harry slowly, painstakingly untangled one set of his roots, retracting them back into his potato-hand before he reached out and tapped Malfoy's nose. It was twitching like a rabbit's nose and Harry was worried it would fall right off and hop out the window. That would be a shame. 

"Don't think anything eats grass, Finnigan," someone said.

"They do, camels eat grass, I'm tellin' ya!"

"Sand," Dean corrected as he wriggled his bum into the ground, settling in further. 

And it was sand, just like he said. The threat of an open window threatening to suck out Malfoy's soul fell away into a warm desert night. They were in a beachy hut bedecked with poufs and cushions, beautiful hangings on the clapboard walls that only just blocked out the night sky...but Harry knew it was out there. He would keep his guard up. He would keep them safe.

"Drink this," said Neville, pressing another bright orange goblet into his hands. Harry complied. He hadn't noticed the cotton in his mouth until the potion washed it away.

"Feel better?" Malfoy patted his potato in solidarity. He stared. Malfoy was smirking at him, his caterpillar lips were smirking  _ within _ the smirk. A double-smirk, the clever bastard.

"Luna, look!" Hermione hissed, her tongue darting out like a serpent. When had she gotten so close? She lifted his legs as if they weighed nothing; she was searching for something, her head weaving back and forth across the sand.

_ "When did you learn parseltongue?" _ he asked her, annoyed.

"OH GODS!" Ron's voice rang out across the sandy dunes and Harry found him on the far side of their hut - which was both huge and tiny, as space seemed to do as it pleased - staring at his goblet in horror. "Oh I've killed you, haven't I? Oh, gods!"

Whatever it was that Ron had killed, Harry rather thought it deserved to go for upsetting his friend so much.

“The juiciest…” Ron sobbed quietly. “Gone too soon.”

Neville’s large figure, floating yet another round of bright orange potions, blocked him from view, whispered words of comfort mingling with Ron’s grief.

Beside him, Malfoy heaved a great sigh, blowing smoke through his lips. A hookah - one of those big standing pipes with a hose on the end, with a small pot of fruity beans on the top. Malfoy inhaled through the hose, his beautiful caterpillar lips barely touching the end, pulling smoke down the long pipe, into the bubbling water at the bottom, through the hose, and into his lungs.

"Smoking's bad for you." Harry tried to grasp the hose from him.

Malfoy's laughter rang out, shaking his eyeballs. "Drugs are bad for you, Harry."

"Sometimes bad things are good," Harry found himself saying, plucking absently at Malfoy's sleeve.

* * *

Herbology Study #8-C  
Date: 5 March 1999  
Time: 11:20pm

Second round of hydration potion administered, all subjects doing well physically. Third round administered to all but S3**.

S7 speaking parseltongue but only at S5. In English, S7 concerned over S6's smoking habit. (No smoke detected.)

S5 & S4 searching under beds for nargles. S5 seems frantic. S4: no change in normal demeanor (as far as I can tell).

S3 distraught over "Little Ron" (second empty goblet of hydration potion). Crying. **Will not accept third round of hydration, being a real wanker about it.

S1 still drawing, scribbles seem to have meaning only between himself and S2.

S2 still very impressed by - 

* * *

"FIRE!"

Harry launched to his feet, sending a rush of flames and sparks into the air. Malfoy’s damn hookah had caught a nearby pouf on fire. Harry snatched up the offending pouf and banged it against the sand, but it was too late - the fire was spreading rapidly to the walls of their little-big desert hut.

“Come at me like a man, ya fapping sack of air!” Seamus cried, throwing his hands out to shield Dean from the angry flames licking at the scattered bits of parchment in their corner. “Dean, love, it wasn’t me this time, but I’ll defend yer sacred art to ma death!”

Ron gave a great warbling cry as he stood, arms crooked over his head. “My juice!” he screeched, eyes staring up at his own half-braided ginger fringe. “Don’t let me spill, Harry!”

“Ron!” Desperate, Harry scrambled across a sea of burning sand, but the distance between them never seemed to close.

“Harry, my juice!”

“Ron!”

“Luna, the nargles!” The serpent’s voice was sharp as a whip and Harry snapped to attention, turning to help her even as his hand reached uselessly towards Ron.

_ “Hermione!” _

It was too much, he couldn’t save everyone! With a lurch in his stomach, he realized he’d left Malfoy behind. He was standing at a distance - some inches or miles, space hadn’t decided - looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

“Draco, I - I’m sorry!” he choked out reflexively. The fire raging around them, Hermione’s hissing, Ron’s wailing, Seamus’s threats - none of it held a candle to the look on Malfoy’s face. “I’m sorry…” 

He fell to his knees in the sand and raised his spuds on high, screaming in anguish.

Something passed by him in a whirl of smoke and suddenly Malfoy was gone. “NOOOO!” Harry shrieked.

“I’m right here,” Malfoy had told him earlier and Harry could swear he heard it again, but that wasn’t possible. He’d vanished in a puff of smoke and all that was left of him was a nice bum-print in the sand. “Harry!”

Harry whirled around, lowering his arms to clutch his chest so his heart wouldn’t leap right out of it. It was Malfoy. Without warning, he scooped Harry up into his arms, away from the bitter flames, and deposited him into Ron’s arms, bridal style. Ron yelped and held very, very still.

“Harry...my juice.” Wide blue eyes darted up and Harry patted his ginger hair comfortingly. 

Malfoy now stood in the center of their burning hut, clutching an orange potion in either hand and looking very much like a superhero in a Muggle comic book. With that bastard double-smirk, he took a load of the potion into his mouth and sprayed it into the air.

Harry watched, mesmerized, as his caterpillar lips transformed into a trunk. He was the most magnificent pink elephant Harry had ever seen, dousing the flames with a glorious orange spray.

The next moments - a minute or a year, time hadn’t decided - passed by in a haze of cheers and tears. Harry felt himself lifted out of Ron’s arms and instinctively latched on to Malfoy’s pink scent, feeling his trunk wrap around him securely.

“Alright, Harry?”

“Hero,” he muttered. He patted Malfoy’s enormous ear, immensely proud of how he’d handled the situation.

“Watch it, Gryffindor,” Malfoy huffed in warning before throwing Harry into a fluffy white cloud.

* * *

Herbology Study #8-C  
Date: 6 March 1999  
Time: 12:00am

S7’s claims of smoke/fire completely imaginary. Power of suggestion has spread the illusion to the remaining test subjects. Apparently confused/overwhelmed, S7 kneels on floor, makes strange garbled moaning sound.

S4 & S1 unbothered, unchanged by the prospect of a fire. S4 assuring S5 “the nargles are fine” (no nargles in sight), S1 continues to draw.

S2 shouting unintelligibly. Seems upset.

S3 thinks he is pumpkin juice, fears spillage. Will reference mercilessly in future. Fire apparently a secondary concern for S3.

S6 seems angry at the fire, “rescues” S7 and spits remaining hydration potions at imaginary flames. Will leave mess for S6 to clean up in morning.

Preliminary Conclusions: S7 is a dramatic git who can’t go four hours without finding a life-or-death situation. Also clearly fancies S6.

* * *

Draco smirked down at the Golden Git of Gryffindor, stroking his feathery soft hair. They were in Potter’s bed, with the git all snug and contained under the covers while Draco sat at his side...to make sure he got another hydration potion in him and to prevent an escape, of course. The idiot had started a mass panic over an imagined fire, he couldn’t be trusted out of bed. That was alright. He thought he might prefer him in bed anyway.

He was startled to realize that Potter was staring at his eyes now instead of his hands.

“Feel better?”

Potter nodded and made to sit up. Draco helped him, heaving him up from under his arms to settle against the pillows. Then, to his shock and horror and very slight pleasure, Potter leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Exasperated after a long night of dealing with Potter’s shenanigans, Draco had the sense to push him back.

“I’m sorry,” Potter mumbled, not for the first time that night. Draco shook his head. He didn’t want an apology...he wanted to snog him silly, but Potter was still coming down. He didn’t fancy a punch to the teeth later because he took advantage of a doped up savior.

“Here…” In lieu of a proper response, he shook out Potter’s favorite flannel shirt from earlier and stuffed his limp noodle arms into it. “Better?”

“Mm. Soft.”

“Wretched old rag,” Draco corrected, picking at a frayed sleeve.

“Lips’re soft. Caterpillars.”

Draco blinked, opened his mouth, then cleared his throat. “Er, one more hydrator, then you should sleep…”

“D’you even take the stuff?” Harry slurred sleepily before downing it in one go. A bit escaped his lips and Draco swiped it away with his thumb, then wiped his thumb on Potter’s disgusting shirt.

“Do you reckon I’d have done any of that without a hallucinogen?” 

“Spit at a room full of Gryffindors? Yeah, actually…” He was nearly asleep now and Draco, merciful reformed saint that he was, bit back a retort.

He sat there for hours, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair while Granger and Lovegood celebrated the nargles’ survival with belly-dancing. Longbottom joined them sometime just before dawn, rolling his great big belly expertly like he’d been practicing his whole life. Thomas was drawing in Longbottom’s precious notebook, no doubt ruining his observations. Weasley and Finnigan had fallen asleep ages ago, and the others eventually nodded off as well. Draco watched the sunrise alone, having never felt less alone in his life. 

Everything was just so.


End file.
